


The Barrow Kings Hotel

by castaliareed



Series: Snowcastles [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Barrowlands, Bathtubs, Cersei is dead, F/M, Incest, Jonsa Spring Challenge, Modern Westeros, Sansa has escaped from Cersei, Sinblings, Smut is coming in the next parts, Westeros has become really progressive about incest but some people still think its weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 17:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castaliareed/pseuds/castaliareed
Summary: In wake of the death of Cersei Lannister, Jon and Sansa visit Barrowtown at the request of Lady Dustin. Politics are the subject of the day.Written for Day 2 of the Jonsa Spring Challenge: “Come closer… Let me look at you.”Part 2/Chapter 2 of Snowcastles





	The Barrow Kings Hotel

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this got wayyyy longer than expected. Also got way more in the plot on this one then I was expecting. Which I don't love...sigh. (This may get re-written and tightened up or broken into two chapters later on.)
> 
> A quick overview of the situation: Cersei Lannister is dead by very mysterious circumstances. She happened to die the same night Jon and Arya rescued/stole Sansa from a 'rehab' center. Sansa was being held prisoner at the center and Cersei had launched a smear campaign against Sansa saying she was a drug user etc. etc. At this point, Sansa doesn't remember a lot of what happened. Jon isn't revealing much, either.  
> Oh and all the while there is now a ton of political upheaval with ya know Cersei, the queen in the south, being dead. AND always angsty incest vibes b.c. it's Jon and Sansa and he still thinks he's Ned's son. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think. This is my first modern AU, I'm posting here!

_The TV played in the Kitchen of the beach house while Sansa sipped her tea. The gold coffin was shown being paraded through the streets of King's Landing in between segments of talking heads speculating about who killed Cersei Lannister. Mad man! Assasins sent from Essos! Insurgents from the North!  Sansa wished Jon would tell her what happened the night he stole her from the rehab center Cersei turned into Sansa's prison. Yesterday was the first day she felt the haze of sedatives that they had pumped her with at the center fully lift._

_Masha Tide was hovering about preparing breakfast. Sansa watched Tyrion and Jaime Lannister lead the mourners wondering how much either of them cared that Cersei was dead. She thought she spotted Ned Dayne the young Lord of Starfall and was that her sister Arya next to him amongst the VIP contingent? The news cut to a pretty reporter in the crowd shoving a microphone into Arya Stark's face. It was her sister. Sansa put her mug down. Jon hadn't told her Arya planned on showing her face, her real face, at Cersei's funeral._

_The scrolling bumper in the lower third of the screen, shouted that 'Lady Arya of House Stark leads the Northern Delegation at Royal Funeral.' Arya wore a fetching black pantsuit and large black sunglasses. Sansa would have to compliment her sister on her funeral attire._

_"Lady Arya, Lady Arya, a word," the reporter said. Sansa could see Sandor Clegane, the Hound, standing near Arya watching the reporters. Masha turned from the stove toward the TV to watch Arya, too._

_"House Stark and the North are very saddened by this news," Arya said continuing her fast pace towards the rebuilt Sept of Baelor a sour look on her face. 'Bullshit' thought Sansa._

_"Why didn't the King in the North come to the funeral?"_

_"His grace had prior engagements that could not be changed," she said._

_"And the Lady of Winterfell," another reporter shouted._

_"Lady Stark is also attending to prior engagements. They send their condolences to House Lannister." Arya said louder than necessary._

_Several reporters started shouting at once, shoving their microphones towards Arya._

_"Is it true Lady Stark is in rehab?"_

_"Can you talk about her drug use."_

_"Will the King in the North attend the Great Council?"_

_"Does he want to rule all seven Kingdoms"_

_"Lady Arya, Lady Arya"_

_"This is a time to celebrate Cersei Lannister's life," Arya said. Sansa laughed 'More like time to celebrate her death.'_

_"Please no more questions. Thank you, thank you," Arya said pushing past the throng of reporters with the help of the Hound._

_"Lady Arya said no more questions," he growled._

_"Turn that horseshit off," Jon said as he walked into the kitchen._

_"It's the news," Sansa said._

_"humph...lot a good that'll do ya," he said. 'Someone hasn't had their coffee yet' she noticed._

_Sansa flicked off the TV, watching Jon pull out the french press to make his coffee. He didn't let anyone make it not even Masha. No one did it right._

_"We have to hold a press conference," Sansa told him. "Every day that goes by and we don't say anything makes it worse."_

_"There were official condolences and Arya is at the funeral," he said turning to lean against the counter while he waited for the water to boil for his coffee. His grey t-shirt was tight, showing off his muscled chest and biceps. Sansa tried not to stare._

_"From House Stark," she said. "They need to hear from you." She emphasized. And they need to know I'm well. That I'm not an addict no matter what lies Cersei Lannister tried to spin. Jon rubbed his eyes._

_"Fine," he said turning back to the stove giving Sansa a view of his round bum in grey sweatpants. "If you think you're ready,"  he added. I'm not she thought. We have no other choice._

_"I want to leave in the next hour for Barrowtown." Jon walked out of the Kitchen screendoor with his mug mumbling about "Getting this sh*t with Lady Dustin over with." Sansa could see Brienne and his personal assistant Satin out the window near the garage. They were already loading the SUV._

*****

**Jon**

Jon decided he would let Brienne drive them to Barrowtown. He liked driving. He liked driving the black on black Mercedes SUV even more. The risk of people seeing their King in the North in the driver's seat was too great. The back windows were tinted. Not mention with everything that was happening he might need to be on the phone during the drive. 

Sansa sat in the backseat next to him while Satin road in the front passenger side glued to his phone arranging some type of impromptu press conference. Satin was by far Jon's best assistant. The mixed-race kid from the Vale was going to be a force in the North in a few years.   
  
Ghost was in the very back sleeping between their luggage. Sansa had asked him why they took such an obvious car. "It's bulletproof," he said. The rest of their men would follow later. The trip to Barrowtown was last minute and it would be hard to accommodate everyone. Lady Dustin had assured him that morning that she had the best security and all the proper precautions would be taken.  She hadn't said what she wanted. Barbrey Dustin, the Black Widow of Barrowtown, they called her. It was impossible to decline the request of the wealthy widow, one of their most important supporters.  

"Lord Tyrion says he will run the interim government," Satin reported not lifting his head from his phone. 

Sansa looked at Jon worried. It was bad enough that Tyrion had returned from Essos for the funeral. Now, he was making a play for ruling. She was sure he would do so in Daenerys' name if the people let him, she said to Jon. 

"He's not running anything. There's still an elected Hand and all the elected ministers," Jon said. The last thing it wanted to do was think about the dragon queen. 

"But whoever wears the crown has final say on everything. Lords and Ladies still govern their lands with help from local electors. And they still have a say. This could be bad for us," Sansa reminded him. Jon didn't need to be reminded of the crisis that faced them. 

"Right, they're saying the Lords and Ladies are going to call for a Great Council to decide the secession," Satin added. 

"It doesn't concern the North," Jon said.

"It does soo," Sansa said. "They want us back in the fold. Paying taxes and tributes to King's Landing. We could use it to our advantage." This was the most Sansa had talked about governing and ruling since they had stolen her from that gods' awful place Cersei was keeping her. That had been near a week ago. 

Jon leaned his head back against the seat. His hand falling on to Sansa's thigh rubbing it back and forth. 

"What do you want me to do Sans," he said his eyes closed. 

"I don't...I don't know..." she said. Jon opened his eyes a bit to see her staring out the window wringing her hands. 

They stopped in Torrhen's Square for an early lunch. Lord Tallheart joined them at a small YiTi-ish restaurant. The town had a sizable YiTi immigrant population that the Tallhearts were quite proud of. The owner, Elvin Sun, came out to thank Jon and Sansa for eating there. The food was delicious.   
  
The town was thriving, new construction all over the place. Southroners were flocking to the Northern towns along with the Essosi immigrants. Accepting the grants the Starks had issued. They needed people to rebuild. The more, the better, and families like the Tallhearts had been gracious.  _It comes back to them in business and taxes and better food._  Jon was sure they had found other ways to line their pockets. 

When they exited the restaurant, a small group of reporters was waiting for them. Satin had done his work. Jon gave his most insincere condolences to House Lannister. Sansa briefly spoke talking of all she learned from Cersei. She declined to address any rumors. Though thanked everyone for their concern. Jon added that they would not be taking any questions and that it was much to soon to discuss anything regarding a Great Council. In less then five minutes they had given a public statement and were back in the car. 

Brienne circled around Torrhen's Square for near hour making sure she lost any reporters that might try to follow them. Jon thought he was going to get a headache. The stay in Barrowtown was to be a private affair. He was anxious to get it over with.

There was hardly any snow on the ground in the Barrowlands. Rolling hills, the ancient burial sites of past kings. Tall Tales Old Nan used to tell. They were probably just hills. The Starks Kings had fought the Barrow Kings centuries ago. Jon always felt like he was in hostile territory here. He went back to watching Sansa stare out the window. She was doing better and handled the reporters well. The afternoon sun shined through the window making the copper in her hair glitter. Sometimes, she would turn to him and he wanted to drown in her wide blue eyes. 

The car turned down a long driveway leading to a large new building with several A-frame gables. It was trimmed with dark wood from the Wolfswood. Several stories high, the Barrow Kings Hotel and Spa had large windows all around. Brienne went inside while Jon and Sansa waited in the car. Brienne came out with instructions to a small private guest house on the grounds. 

"They apologized, your grace," she said. "It's all they had available on short notice. There's another nearby for Satin and myself. The rest will be taking turns sitting in cars and sleeping in rooms at the main house of the hotel." Jon nodded. He was never one to put out his own people just because he needed a suite of rooms. 

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Brienne," Sansa said opening the door and getting out of the SUV. The guest house was set apart from the other buildings. It was sleek and open looking with the same wood trim as the main house of the hotel. Jon let Ghost out of the back of the SUV. The direwolf followed the group inside. 

Inside, the small guest house had one large room with one very large bed, a couch, desk, and television, a bathroom with a large sink and toilet in a separate closet-like room. Jon walked into another room through the bathroom. In the center, it had a private hot spring bath sunken into a grey slate floor. Along one wall of the room, there was a shower head to rinse before getting into the large bath to soak. The outer wall had floor to ceiling french doors that could be opened onto a patio when the weather was nicer. Or if you preferred a snowy outdoor hot bath, Jon thought you could open them in winter. 

Jon walked back to the main room. "This is the only suite they had?" he asked Brienne. The lady turned bright red. Their lords had already made comments about him and Sansa's closeness. This wouldn't help. And sure, he had heard sleeping with your half-sister was becoming more of an accepted thing. They weren't Targaryens or Lannisters.  

"Your grace, they...ahh...said nothing else would be able to be as private. And well...the direwolf..." Brienne said. 

"You requested no reporters, no paparazzi. Not yet at least," Satin added dropping bags down in the main room. "Its a hotel and spa. This is the best they could do. Lady Dustin says that the staff is discreet and the grounds look secure."  Sansa could be heard ohhing and ahhing in the bathroom.

"This is lovely, Jon," she yelled from the bathroom. Jon sighed and shook his head. It would have to do. 

"Lady Dustin's already sent some extra guards. She's hoping to entertain you in the hotel's private dining room this evening," Satin added.  Jon wanted to groan.  _Yes, they would see Lady Dustin tonight_.

He sent Brienne and Satin off to get some rest before the evening shift. It would be an exhausting evening, he was sure of that. 

Back in the main room, Sansa had taken off her shoes and sat on the bed. The TV was on with more scenes from the funeral, more talking heads speculating on Cersei's assassination, the future of Westeros.  _Fools_  

"Stop watching that," he said.

"I want to make sure she's really gone," Sansa said. "I wish they would burn the body." Jon couldn't argue with that. Cersei rising like a wight was his worst nightmare. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon fielding calls from Bran or Samwell Tarly or even Lord Davos. Asha Greyjoy had already reached out to Lord Davos about what the North would do. The Iron Isles would follow the North's lead she claimed. 

He glanced at Sansa while he took the calls. She was better at this than him. Jon wished she could help. There were moments when he thought she wanted too. The moments would pass and she would stare off into space again, wringing her hands or brushing her hair.  _Gods, her hair._ It had grown half-way down her back while Cersei kept her locked up. He remembered when she used to straighten it. It was pretty then, too. Now, she let the auburn waves fall down her back. Kissed by fire. Sometimes when he looked at Sansa's hair, he remembered another woman who was kissed by fire.  _Ygritte._  A woman he had loved once. He felt a twitch in his crotch. 

Sansa had let the brush fall into her lap. She had been both trying to listen to the call and work through the tangles. Her hair had grown so much it wasn't an easy task. Jon couldn't resist the urge to help her. 

Setting the phone on the desk, he put Sam on speakerphone. His erstwhile friend and advisor was giving them the rundown of Lady Dustin's business holdings with a history of the Barrow Kings sprinkled in. Jon sat on the couch next to Sansa, taking the brush from her hands. 

"Shouldn't you be taking notes," she whispered 

"Aye, he'll go on like that forever then email me a cheat sheet for dinner," he said. "Come closer." Sansa shifted closer to him on the couch turning her back to him so he could brush her hair.

"I'll remember," she said. Jon was sure of that. Sansa always had a better memory for people and history then he did. "That feels good."  Jon ran the brush from the top of her scalp down. Her hair was soft. With each stroke of the brush through her hair, Jon felt his breath grow a little shorter. He felt something else growing longer. Reminding himself that she was his half-sister did nothing to help the urge he had to kiss her long neck. Instead, he focused on Sam's rambling about Lady Dustin and the rhythm of brushing her hair. 

The call finished too soon. Sansa got up leaving him on the couch.  She pulled out the sketchbook Brienne had brought for her.  Jon watched her sketch while pretending to work on emails until it was time to get ready for dinner. 

They took turns changing in the bathroom. When Sansa came out, standing before him in tight leather pants and a grey and gold top. Her copper hair in a braid over her shoulder. Jon's voice caught in his throat. "Heels or boots," she asked him. He was tempted to ask why she was asking him. 

Finding the words, "Come closer," he said for the second time that day. "Let me look at you." She walked toward him and gave a spin. 

"You look radiant," he said. She laughed Jon stood his shoulders square to her. 

"It's not even that fancy. It's only I've been in jeans and sweaters since..." her voice trailed off.  _Since I stole you back,_  he finished for her. 

"Heels or boots?" she asked again. 

"Heels," he replied. 

"I'll be taller than you," she said. 

"Good," he said. She looked down blushing not meeting his eyes. Jon started to reach his hand out to grab her waist and pull her closer to him. 

The sound of a car pulling up to the front of the guesthouse made them both turn.  _What was he doing forgetting that she was his half-sister? We're not some of those 'family intimacy' weirdos.  Thank goodness Brienne was here._ She had come to drive them to the main building of the hotel. Sansa had wanted to walk but Jon insisted. There were too many hotel guests out wandering around. The last thing he needed was someone snapping a picture and the reporters would be camped outside their door. 

Brienne deposited them at the back of the main building and they were shown to a private dining room where Lady Dustin waited for them with her personal assistant. Her dark brown hair was pulled away from her face and she wore heavy makeup. Jon thought she looked about 10 years younger than she was. Dressed in all black with silver and gold bangles, several rings, and large diamond earrings, she cut an imposing figure. 

Lady Dustin greeted them with double cheek kisses. She fawned over Sansa saying how good it was to see her back in the North, where she belonged. She was less gracious with Jon. They sat down to a four-course meal with rich Dornish wine that Sansa only sipped. With all the meds she had been given over the past 4 months at the center wine was the last thing she needed. 

"I saw you both on TV earlier," Lady Dustin said. "Sansa you must use my makeup artist. The ruddy cheek look is becoming on you my dear but you are the Lady of Winterfell. What would your mother say." She shook her head. Sansa kneaded her hands and thanked Lady Dustin, saying she would love to meet her makeup artist. "And your hair, didn't you straighten it before? I think for TV that would be much nicer than all these messy curls." Jon felt himself clutch his hand. He had spent the better part of an hour brushing and combing her hair until the waves glistened. 

"I think it looks beautiful," he growled at the Lady. He felt a firm nudge under the table. Sansa's blue eyes gave him a warning. She wanted him to be nice to the black widow. Jon returned his attention to the bowl in front of him. The soup course finished and they were brought a main course of wild boar. 

The Lady of Barrowtown would not stop talking, she leaned into Sansa saying "I tried to get his grace to trim his hair once after the war and I thought he was going to chop my head off for the mere suggestion." Sansa smiled pretending to laugh. Jon narrowed his eyes if Sansa would've let him he just might've cut Lady Dustin's head off. 

The conversation rambled on about building projects planned for the Barrowlands and the future of the North. A salad came and then finally dessert with tea for Sansa and a strong brandy for him. 

"Have you decided what the North will do now that Cersei's gone?" asked Lady Dustin starting her third glass of wine. Here it was. The real reason Lady Dustin had insisted on Jon and Sansa coming to Barrowtown. He could hear Sansa swallow.

"My lady, you'll find out when all the Northmen do," he said. She looked between him and Sansa. 

"Yes, of course, Cersei Lannister isn't even cold in her grave," she said. "Things do move fast, though." Giving Jon and Sansa a smile, she continued to go on about Cersei's death. Lady Dustin for some reason liked the idea that it was a crime of passion committed by her brother Jaime.

"They were lovers, you know," Lady Dustin said. "I suppose that sort of thing is more acceptable, these days." Jon tried to stop listening as she laid out her theory of how Jaime Lannister killed his twin sister-lover in a fit of rage. It all sounded like one of Sansa's stories to him. _She's right about one thing. The person who killed was in a fit of rage._

When they got up to leave, Lady Dustin invited them to the opening of a new nightclub the next night. DJ O-sevens would be there. It was very exclusive she promised. Sansa's eyes lit up. Jon knew he couldn't refuse both women. 

Grabbing, his arm, the black widow said in a low voice so Sansa wouldn't hear, "We can speak more about the North's plans, tomorrow." Jon narrowed his eyes at her and sighed. They left the main house of the hotel without another word. Returning to the guest house to put an end to this long day. 

The guesthouse was lit with warm evening lights. Jon sat on the bed pulling off his shoes, "That was painful," he said.

"Be gracious, Jon," Sansa reminded him taking off her own heels. "Lady Dustin is one of our most important bannerman...woman..."

"I'm aware," he said unimpressed. Jon unbuttoned his collared shirt taking it off and tossing it aside then untucking the black t-shirt he wore underneath. 

"And she managed to get herself elected as premier of the Barrowlands, too. Before that she had the second largest real estate firm in the North," Sansa said. 

"An inherited title and a earned one," he shook his head. 

"Not unlike someone else I know," Sansa said smiling at him.

"It's different. She won the election because no one ran against her," he said pulling his t-shirt over his head. "And I'm a bastard who never had a title."

Sansa stood in front of him, "You're a member of the most important family in the North. Don't forget it." He felt her eyes on the scars on his chest. He touched them, the memory of the stab wounds that killed him, with his burnt hand. Inhaling as he looked up at her. 

"All I need is a real estate company and I'll be just like the black widow of the Barrowlands," he said putting his hand on her hips to move her aside so he could stand. 

Sansa laughed, "Not the worst idea."

"Not the best either." Jon walked into the bathroom leaving his pants on the floor. Shutting the door before discarding his boxers and entering the room with the large hot springs bath. He needed a good long soak. 

Jon washed under the shower head along the wall before slipping into the hot spring water. The lights were dim and steam rose from the water. Looking out the french doors there was a sliver of the waning moon. He could see a faint outline of the barrows in the distance. There was a ledge underneath the water along the sides of the bath for a person to sit on. Jon turned away from the barrows and sat on the ledge, the water came up to his neck. He leaned his head back on closed his eyes. 

The sound of running water made him look up again. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming or worse seeing a ghost. The Barrowlands were haunted. Red-auburn hair covering a pale back standing underneath a showerhead washing their hair.  _Ygritte,_  he thought. Then shook his head.  _No, Sansa._

"Sans, what are you doing?" he said. She turned at the sound of his voice. 

"You were taking too long. I  was getting tired,"  
"I needed to relax," he said trying not to look at her long legs and the curve of her ass. 

"You can't have this bath all to yourself, Jon Snow," she responded. 

"You're not wearing anything," he said.

Her laugh filled the room, "You've seen me in bikinis that barely cover little more than this before," she said facing him.  He turned away from her curves, her  full breasts, the reddish mound of hair between her legs.  _Seven hells_.  

"You were 16 then," he said. 

"Have I changed so much in 3 years?" she asked.  _Gods yes, yes you have._  

Jon couldn't find the words, "You've grown," he stammered. Sansa laughed again and finished washing. 

Turning off the shower head, Sansa slipped into the bath at the end opposite him. He still avoided looking at her, "Jon we all used to bathe together when we were kids." 

"We aren't children, Sans," he said finally facing her.  _Come closer...let me look at you. Let me see how you've grown since we were children,_ he wanted to say. Reading his mind she moved to his end of the bath. Jon was still leaning against the wall of the bath. Facing the opposite direction, Sansa put her knees up on the underwater ledge. She had her chin resting on her crossed arms over the edge of the bath, gazing out at the moon and the dark barrows. He closed his eyes again trying not to think about his half-sister naked next to him.

"They say that the Barrow Kings are cursed to forever rise from their graves on moonless nights. That they try to take bad little children back with them to break the curse," she told him.

"Where ya hear that crazy story?" he asked. "Old Nan?" A spray of water hit his face. Jon shot up. 

"I hope they come and take you," she said. She splashed him again. Jon splashed her back with much more force that she used on him. Sansa stood in the bath looking stunned. Jon couldn't help himself for laughing. Sansa could give as good as she got. She started repeatedly pushing water towards him. Trying to keep up with the force of her water assault, he ended up moving away from her. Her mother was a Tully and Tully women are said to be fish. Soon they were breathless with laughter. The floor of the bath around them was covered in puddles of water. 

Sansa moved to sit next to him, her chest heaving. She rested her head on his shoulders. Jon could feel his cock rising. He closed his eyes hoping she wouldn't notice and trying to think of anything else. Lower her arm under the water, she brushed against his cock and giggled. 

"Jon what's that," she teased. 

"Sans, I'm trying..." he groaned. "I know people are more accepting now...of all kinds of things...We...we just..."

"Right..." she looked back out the glass doors at the night sky. "We're not Targaryens. We're not Lannisters. We're Starks." 

"Sansa..." he started to say until her hand found his. 

"It's ok," she whispered. They sat like that in silence until she decided to get out of the water. 

Jon waited awhile before leaving the bath hoping Sansa would be asleep. The lights were off in the main room of the guesthouse when he entered in his boxers. Sansa a lump in the bed underneath the covers. But as he went to sleep on the couch, he heard her call to him. Looking at the couch, he decided to crawl into bed next to her. Kissing Sansa's forehead, he spent the night watching her sleep in his arms. 


End file.
